“I told you she was great.”

  Arlo’s voice filtered in behind her, loud enough to make it through the pulsing, throbbing background of the club, but still low enough that it sent a few shivers skittering down her spine.

  When had they come back with the drinks?

  And how much had he heard?

  Since he’d obviously heard some of what she’d said, Kerrigan opted to hit it head-on as she set her empty wineglass on their small, high-top table and took the fresh glass Arlo extended. “Don’t mind me. I’m just waxing poetic on police work.”

  “Wax away,” Arlo said, and for the first time since he’d arrived, she saw an easing in him. In the set of his shoulders and the small light that now danced in the deep blue depths of his eyes. “It’s what makes you a good cop.”

  Kerrigan reached for her glass of wine and took a sip. It was already more than she’d planned, promising herself on the way over she’d only have one drink.

  But, damn it, she didn’t want to leave.

  Didn’t want to walk away from that appreciation in his gaze or his support of her chosen profession.

  His support of her.

  “Kerrigan was just telling me about how she gets through the hard days,” Marlowe added, leaning into Wyatt before looking up into his eyes. “Seems like devotion to the job runs rampant in this crew.”

  “You know going in that it’s not easy work.” Wyatt wrapped his free arm around Marlowe’s shoulders. “But it’s meaningful work. In the end, I’ve come to realize that’s all that matters.”

  * * *

  Wyatt’s words lingered in his mind as Arlo took a pull on his beer. It wasn’t easy work. They all knew that going in and even as far back as the academy, when everyone was shiny and eager, their instructors made sure everyone understood what they were signing up for.

  Yet he’d still made the choice.

  So had Wyatt and every other cop on the force.

  And so had Kerrigan.

  He’d been caught off guard to see her already inside Bulldog’s and the walk to the bar had given him a few moments to settle himself. To cover up the instant hit of attraction he’d felt at seeing her long dark hair waving around her face before falling like a dream down her back.

  Why was it easier to see her as a partner when they were on the job? Now all that professional distance had seemingly vanished.

  He’d had female partners before. Not many, especially since he’d worked with his first partner, John, for more than six years of his career. But he had worked with women and none of them had gotten under his skin. They’d been valued colleagues, nothing more.

  And now he had someone under him, training with him, and he was having a hard time keeping any sense of distance.

  Was it that first moment, when their eyes had met across the boat?

  Before he knew who she was or recognized her profound desire for the work?

  Because no matter how he sliced it, he kept coming back to that single instant in his mind. That moment of sharp awareness that went soul-deep.

  Since he was at risk of looking like he’d zoned out of the conversation, Arlo lifted his beer toward their small circle. “To doing the hard and the meaningful work.”

  “Hear! Hear!”

  The light clinking of drinks echoed up from their group and in short order several more cops joined their circle, the conversation turning more casual with the excitement and enjoyment of a night off.

  The new additions were welcome, shifting his focus off Kerrigan and onto various friends and acquaintances.

  “You must be riding high after taking down that big drug ring.” David Remus, a fellow detective at a nearby precinct in Brooklyn Heights, was quick with the compliment as he moved in next to Arlo and Wyatt. “That was a big catch, Prescott, and outstanding work.”

  “It felt good to get that much product off the streets.”

  “Heard you got a lot of the low-level dealers out of circulation, too.”

  “We did.”

  “That must feel pretty great, too.”

  It did, and Arlo wouldn’t say otherwise, but for all the hype and excitement others had about the big bust, he still felt oddly ambivalent about it.

  Yes, they’d removed a lot of product. Thousands of kilos of heroin and cocaine as well as a sizable bust of fentanyl off the streets meant huge benefits for the community. And those lower-level dealers often led to bigger busts when they turned on higher-ups.

  But beyond removing the product, not much else had transpired in the past two months. The lower levels had been strangely reticent to squeal for a deal.

  “Admittedly, I’d have liked a better hit rate on the upper echelon. The worker bees are satisfying, of course.”

  “But they’re not the real prize,” Remus affirmed before taking a sip of his drink.

  “You’ve still got the year’s big bust,” Arlo said, curious if David had felt that same lingering sense of dissatisfaction. “How’d it feel after?”

  “It felt pretty good. But we also got lucky and took down one of the big dogs.”

  “That’s right,” Wyatt said, his eyes lighting up. “You got the Papa.”

  David’s takedown had included the head of a drug cartel nicknamed “Papa” by both his rank and file, and the media. He’d been a seriously big fish and Wyatt’s quick thinking added another piece to the puzzle. The same one that had eluded him and Kerrigan for more than a week.

  Because getting the Papa had been a big deal. But with such a powerful leader off the market, the drug corridor was open to new players.

  Was that what he was dealing with? People who’d switched loyalties and were still trying to figure out where they fit into their new organization?

  It was a new line to tug and he was suddenly anxious to discuss it with Kerrigan.

  “Arlo, do you have a quick minute?”

  He turned to find her standing there and the moment was strangely sweet, almost as if he’d conjured her up.

  “Sure.”

  “I won’t be long but let me get you a refill on that beer while we’re at it.”

  He didn’t doubt the generosity, but it was curious that Kerrigan obviously wanted to pull him out of the conversational circle. He followed her in the direction of the bar. It was only after he was in line that she leaned in, her voice urgent.

  “I’m sorry to seem like I was eavesdropping, but I was standing right behind him, and I keyed into David’s comments. His takedown last year? What if it’s tied to our boat? And maybe to your bust a few months ago, too?”

  Since it played so closely to his own thoughts, he ran her quickly through his theory as they waited their turn at the bar.

  “It makes a lot of sense, Arlo. Not one single lower-level drone has turned on the higher-ups from your bust. That has to mean something.”

  “It’s definitely an angle.”

  “What if it is the angle?”

  “How so?”

  “The two dead guys on our boat. They were awfully loyal to end up done that way and no one’s talked for over a week? It goes back to the lack of chatter. Just like none of your lower-level guys turned witness after that last bust.”

  It made sense. Hell, it made a lot of sense, Arlo admitted. “We need to find a leak.”

  “There’s a new leader in town and whoever they are, they’ve got everyone running scared.”

  Chapter 6

  Kerrigan felt the adrenaline spike in her system as clearly as she felt the thumping bass emanating from the DJ’s booth. She and Arlo finally had a lead to chase.

  Even if it had come at the expense of a personal evening out.

  They’d opted to abandon the wait at the bar and head back to the precinct, both anxious to review his last case and bump it up against the boat murders. Wyatt and Marlowe had been quick to wave them on, confirming they’d take a ride service back home later.

  And here they were, Kerrigan inwardly sighed, an hour later and still looking for any semblance of a clue, a lead or even a criminal with a suspicious hangnail.

  They had nothing.

  “There has to be something there,” Kerrigan said, shocked at the level of disappointment that coursed in her veins. “There’s no way there’s not a link. Even if it’s something small, or a midlevel dealer jumping to a new organization.”

  “Whoever’s replaced the Papa, they’ve buried their tracks well. You and I’ve been running that boat down all week.”

  “And we don’t have a damn thing to show for it.” She fought the curse that tinged the tip of her tongue and kept on with her depressing list of proof. “The boat. The dead victims. And maybe worst of all, the complete inability to follow where the product is moving.”

  She would own the fact that it had been a busy week, and a long one, but there had been a real shot of hope as they talked it over waiting in line for their turn at the bar.

  And now for there to be nothing?

  She might not have the level of experience Arlo did, but she was a trained cop. There was no way they were circling around the same thoughts and coming up this empty.

  “Hey there.” His eyes were a dark, fathomless blue as he stared at her across his desk. “We’ll find something.”

  “We should have something. Anything. This is just maddening.”

  “Maybe the fact we’re here on a Friday night, giving up a free evening, is influencing our attitudes.”

  “Bulldog’s really was something.” Kerrigan thought about the bar they’d left, one more example of how Sunset Bay had been changing. Now there were young people thronging to businesses and restaurants and snatching up every available apartment a matter of hours after it went on the market.

  As she thought about the crowd of people six deep at the bar, filling every interior table and spilling out to the heated decks at the back that overlooked the water, Kerrigan recalled something else she had seen in the files.

  “Wasn’t there a bar at the center of your last takedown?”

  “Yeah, McNulty’s.”

  “That’s only two blocks from Bulldog’s, right?”

  “It is.” Arlo’s gaze had sharpened. “You think there’s something there?”

  “I realize downtown continues to expand and grow and hot spots are a part of that, but nightclubs and bars? They’re places that deal in cash. They all become real easy places to clean money.”

  Arlo shot her a smile. “You sure you haven’t been working Vice?”

  “Nothing beyond my academy training and a deep devotion to police procedurals in book or TV form.”

  Arlo placed a hand over his heart. “Which means you no doubt see me as your grizzled partner, while you’re the young ingenue determined to solve the case.”

  She couldn’t help laughing at that, especially because it was a definite trope in the detective shows she loved so much.

  “I wouldn’t quite say grizzled.”

  Once again, that dark gaze captured her, drawing her in, as he asked, “What would you call me?”

  “Why don’t we go with seasoned and leave it at that?”

  “I guess I can live with that.”

  Their locked eyes added too much weight to the air between them. Kerrigan glanced down at the notes she’d scribbled on a notepad as they’d reviewed his prior case.

  “It’s still early.” She tapped the notepad. “Why don’t we pop over to McNulty’s? See how they’re handling taking second place to Sunset Bay’s newest hot spot.”

  “You think something’s there?”

  “Yes. No.” She shrugged, not quite sure why she was suddenly curious about the other bar.

  Or why it suddenly felt so important to move.

  To push back against the desire that gripped her when she looked at him for too long.

  “I’m not sure, but something seems...unfinished about your last case.”

  “I won’t argue with you there.”

  “You want to go check it out?”

  He was already standing before she had the words out. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Arlo drove back in the direction they had come from earlier, the traffic just as busy as the start of the evening. He was still processing his thoughts on those quiet moments with Kerrigan in his office, but even he couldn’t deny there had been a few moments that were...fraught.

  If it was simply a matter of his own awareness, he’d feel better. Or so he consoled himself.

  But there was something in the deep brown of her stare that made him think he wasn’t alone in how he felt.

  And that was another matter entirely.

  He was training her. He’d taken on the professional responsibility for her growth. To turn it around or, worse, come off like he was taking advantage of the situation and hit on her?

  Technically, it wasn’t against the rules for them to date. He wasn’t her boss and they’d done nothing inappropriate.

  And yet, he couldn’t quite get a handle on how he’d gotten himself into this situation.

  Or maybe a better question, why he couldn’t separate this swirling attraction for her from the work?

  “This traffic is something else. I know it’s Friday night, but we’ve barely inched these last few blocks.”

  It was just the inane sort of small talk he needed, and Arlo grabbed at it like a lifeline.

  “I know they say the city never sleeps, but I still remember the day Brooklyn had a little bit of lazy in her.”

  Kerrigan’s laugh was quick. “Not anymore. This is now a young professional’s paradise. ‘Work hard, play hard’ seems to be everyone’s motto.”

  “That it is.”

  “Does it bother you?”

  He came to a stop at a red light and used the physical pause as a chance to turn and look at her. “Bother me how?”

  “Progress is great, but it does come with change. And not all change is welcome.”

  Did she speak from experience?

  He nearly pressed her on it right then and there, but held back, somehow recognizing he’d have better luck letting their conversation play out instead of immediately seeking answers.

  “I’d say it’s more good than bad and it is fun to be a part of. If my grandparents could see Brooklyn now...” He let the thought hang there, even as he imagined his sweet grandmother who used to hang wash out the back of her side of a double house in Red Hook.

  “Have they passed away?”

  “Sadly, yes. Both my grandfathers when I was young, one of my grandmothers when I was in high school and then my last remaining grandmother a couple years ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I know it’s the natural order, but I also know I’ll be devastated when I lose mine.”

  “You have all of your grandparents?”

  “I do. My mom’s parents are out in Suffolk County on Long Island and my dad’s parents retired to Florida.”

  It was interesting, he realized, but this was the first somewhat personal conversation they’d really had. They had talked quite a bit about her diving, which obviously veered into the personal, but nothing that spoke of family.

  “Are you close with them?”

  Kerrigan let out a wry chuckle at his question. “Are we close? Let’s just say we’re the Sunday-dinner, family-text-string, all-the-way-up-in-each-other’s-business sort of close.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Most of the time. But sort of like change, it’s not always welcome.”

  “By you?”

  She hesitated briefly and even though he wasn’t looking at her, since the light had turned green, he sensed she would have preferred to pull back the observation.

  “By outsiders. People see my commitment to my family and either don’t understand it or get disillusioned about it really quickly.”

  “Others? Boyfriend others?”

  “Just...others. People outside of that close-knit family structure.”

  He turned onto the block to McNulty’s and realized once again that he had an opportunity to keep pressing or let the conversation ride and see what she shared.

  Or, more to the point, what she was comfortable sharing.

  “What about you? Is your family local? Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  He fought the punch of disappointment that her willingness to share details about herself had wisped away like smoke, even as he understood self-preservation as much as the next person.

  “Two brothers. Two half brothers. My father and stepmom live in Virginia and my mother is divorced and living her best life, as I understand it, in Sedona.”

  “Do your brothers live around here?”

  “My half brothers still live with my dad. My older brother is in Boston and my younger brother followed him a few years ago. Said there wasn’t anything left in New York for him.”

  “You’re here.”

  “I guess I am.”

  As answers went, it was as vague as her earlier comment about “others” and Arlo realized he wasn’t interested in sharing any more.

  Funny how much more interesting it was to ask the questions than to be on the receiving end.

  “We’re here.” Arlo effectively put an end to their conversation as he scanned the crowd milling around on the street and in front of the bar as they waited for the valet. “They’re not pulling a crowd the size of Bulldog’s, but it’s not empty, either.”

  “This bar was central to your takedown, yet they’re open and still doing a steady business.” Her attention was focused through her window as she shared her observations. “A competitor might have dealt them a financial blow, but being at the center of a bust didn’t?”

  “The bar owner wasn’t involved. In fact, he was shocked by what was running out his back alley.”

  “And you bought that?”

  It had been a long time since he would have called himself offended but the sensation was strong before he caught her eye.